A Reason For Everything
by Vaneria Potter
Summary: REEDITED! No one is born Evil, so what made the White Witch like that. There is a fine line between love and hate, My theory on what happened to mould Jadis into who she is. Witches POV. Goes from Before 'The Magician's Nephew' to the end of 'L,W&W'
1. Chapter One

Disclaimer: I do not own 'The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe'. The Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis. I am only writing this for fun and am making no money of this.

Summery: No one is born evil, so what made the witch that way? A possible reason for the White Witch's madness.

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A Reason For Everything.**

They called me Evil.

The White Queen, the evil Witch of Narnia, the tyrant who turns people to stone.

But none of them ask about the woman behind the Witch.

No one ever asks what made me this way.

None of them ever ask why.

Why did I make it always Winter, but never Christmas?

Why did I use the Deplorable Word, turning my world to a realm of the dead?

Why did I hate their savior, Aslan, with such a vengence?

Why did I have no heart, existing as an empty shell.

I am decended from Adam and his first wife, Lilith, on one side. On the other side I come from the Giants.

I am Jadis, Queen of Narnia, Empress of the Lone Islands, etc.

This is my story.

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_A/N - Is this sounding all right? Please review and tell me what you think._

_Thanks, Nathalia_


	2. Chapter Two

Disclaimer: I don't own the 'Chronicles of Narnia', they belong to C. S. Lewis, yada yada yada.

Summery: See Chapter 1.

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Chapter Two**

I remember when it all started.

It was just after my sister's Coronation as Queen of Charn.

A noble family had been killed, I don't remember why, but the youngest daughter had been spared. She was brought before the Queen so she could decide what to do with the child.

Orphaned nobility often become Wards of the State. My sister, look after a child? That was simply laughable.

So what do you think the spiteful bint decided to do?

**_

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Flashback_**

I was walking in the palace garden when a messenger approached. There is a child with him; she could not have been more than five or six summers on this earth.

My attention is brought back to the messenger. "Princess Jadis, the Queen bade me tell your Highness that She is placing the young Countess in your charge. She is an orphan but the Queen cannot adequately care for her at this time." He left.

I bite back the urge to swear. If that wasn't just like her! What had possessed our father to name her as his heir?

A shuffle near the ground brings my thoughts out of inventing curses and back to the small girl in front of me. I kneel before her, lifting her chin to meet my gaze.

She has a delicate build, dark blond hair framing a mischievous, finely featured face. Oh there will be chaos when this one is grown.

She looks at me, hazel-green eyes penetrating all my walls, piercing my icy exterior and latching onto my soul.

Her name will be Sorcha, 'radiance'.

I know little of children, up until now I have seldom wanted and never needed to. But this one has wormed her way into my heart and I will do all that is within my (considerable) power to keep her safe.

****

End Flashback

* * *

And so I raised her as best I could. I was Mother, older sister and friend to the young orphan who became the center of my world.

It was a terrifying experience. I had been married, once, but he had died not long after I had concieved. I will not pretend that it was an accident; I will be ruled by no man. The only useful thing he had done was gift me with a daughter, who I had called Vanerina, meaning 'crowned beauty'. But my daughter had died at the hands of a 'careless' doctor a few days after being born.

I shielded my heart after that, but now Sorcha was prying it open again, despite my initial best efforts.

My Sorcha was a sweet girl, with an endearing smile and a child-like innocence that stayed even as she became a woman.

I was right. There was Chaos when she came of age. Suitors falling over each other to kiss her hand. My child was nothing exceptional when it came to physical beauty, yet she had most of the Royal Court and a good percent of the rest of Charn wrapped around her little finger.

I taught her the ways of our people, diplomacy and the most effective ways of getting what you wanted with the least amount of fuss.

She gave me unconditional love and trust.

My family had not been above using force to get our way. Sorcha used a gentle hand and a smile.

She taught me mercy.

**_

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Flashback _**

"But why must he be given death, Mother? Can you not talk to the Queen? Make her see that it will only stir rebellion if she kills one who saved her life?"

Sorcha is ten, asking me why a prisoner is to be condemned to death. She has a point, the people of Charn are unhappy with my sister's rule as it is, killing someone who nearly died saving my sister from an assassin is not going to help. How do I answer this?

"One: My sister does not listen to me as it is. Two: For every treachery, she has the right to kill."

Sorcha tilts her head in contemplation. "Right, not Duty. The Queen herself preaches the difference between the two. May I talk to her? Perhaps we can avoid the trouble before it starts."

A few days later, my sister issues a decree. 'If a person has saved the life of another, that other may retain the right to do the same in return.' Only using 'High Style' and fancy words.

Then the former prisoner goes to Sorcha and swears his loyalty to her. More will come from this, I am sure. But the look on my sister's face!

Oh this is too amusing.

****

End Flashback

* * *

Years passed in happiness. The prisoner that Sorcha saved, Brand, I think, asked for her hand, she accepted and they were married.

Life seemed perfect. Whatever sorrows my Sorcha had were driven away and I looked forward to becoming a grandmother.

Then the days darkened. Scientists predicted that our sun was dying, that we had a few decades left, if that.

My sister found out, and threw good sense to the winds. If she were to be the last ruler, then she would enjoy herself, never mind the rest of the world.

She made more and more mistakes and the people called for abdication. My sister now viewed Sorcha as a threat to her power.

Gentle Sorcha, whom everyone loved, who the people would have died for, because she saw into the hearts of the people and walked amongst them as on of their own. A threat because the common people would follow her into death, while they despised their Queen.

The cries became louder and louder, until my sister called for my Sorcha's death.

I tried everything to stop it from happening, but to no avail. I used every one of my contacts, called in every favor I had collected over the years. I threw away my legendary pride, openly begging my sister, in PUBLIC even. But it was ultimately futile. My sister did not care that she would destroy many lives with that one act. She threw it away in a last, desperate bid for power.

My heart died within my chest even as my Sorcha's spirit fled her body.

I was mad with grief. I did not eat or sleep for many days afterwards. I watched as the people of Chan rose against my sister, intent on her downfall.

Then I found that the Queen's new advisor had suggested this course of action, acting 'In the name of Aslan'.  
Of course I looked into this. I found little about 'Aslan', only a passing footnote in a book spectulating about the possibility of other worlds. What I did find, fanned the flame of anger and grief into a raging inferno of hatred. The Queen's Advisor had once been the doctor in charge when my first daughter had died.

This long-repressed agony joined with the new dispair at Sorcha's passing, and my sorrow became an insane desire for revenge. Charn was divided by war and I join in, determined that my sister would die for what she had done.

Finally, the war spilled into the capital itself and the streets of Charn ran red.

The last of the soldiers fell and my sister approached, claiming victory.

_**

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Flashback** _

I look at my sister. My gaze sweeps the ruins of what was once a proud city, the motionless bodies that now litter the streets.

"Victory," my voice is flat, emotionless, "Yes, but not yours."

As a child, I had been taught a spell, the Deplorable Word, which would destroy all living things, except the one who spoke it.

What living things? Most of Charn was dead, and our sun was dying. I had already cast the spells that would render me a living statue in the halls of my ancestors, until someone struck the bell with the hammer.

The smile on my sister's face died as she recognized what I was about to do.

I spoke the Deplorable Word.

The next moment, I was the only living thing under the sun.

End Flashback

* * *

Who knows how long passed until the boy, Diggory Kirke, found his way into Charn, freeing me.

By then, with nothing to keep it warm, my heart had become as cold as the stones of my dead city.

I had lost who I once was, and had started to become the White Witch

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A/N – Very out of character at the moment, I know. Jadis will get more into 'Witch mode' soon. This is just what started her on her path as the evil woman portrayed in the Chronicles of Narnia. 


	3. Chapter Three

Disclaimer: I don't own the Chronicles of Narnia or any of the characters contained therein. They belong to C. S. Lewis and I am making no money off this so please do not sue.

Summary: No one is born Evil, so what made the Witch that way. My theory on what happened.

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Chapter Three**

No. Not here.

Anywhere but this place.

The Wood between Worlds.

There was a Tapestry of this terrible place in my Sorcha's rooms.

Sorcha loved to paint or weave her dreams.

How well I Remember.

**_

* * *

Flashback _**

I entered our rooms in the palace, looking for my Sorcha.

She is sitting on the floor, tracing an outline on a large piece of cloth. Another tapestry for our rooms or for the gallery, I suppose.

I look at the cloth. It is an exquisite drawing of a woodland scene, calm and quiet. Almost too quiet.

Sometimes I think my Sorcha is a mind reader. She is far too perceptive for an eighteen year old.  
But then, I had looked into Sorcha's family tree once, and discovered that her family had been very gifted in the mind arts. Perhaps my suspicion of a 'Mind Reader' is closer than I think.

"A place I saw in my dreams lately. But I do not like it. It is too quiet, almost lifeless."

I smile down at her. "Then add something to give it life. It was your dream; perhaps you should be in it."

The smile on her face is worryingly reminiscent of when Sorcha is about to do something that will knock someone for a loop.

She adds a few more details; birds, people who I recognize from the city and court laughing, herself dancing as music swirls around like an invisible wind; drifting to all corners, filling the scene with light and joy.

Sorcha had that effect on people

I look at the finished drawing, and I freeze. Sorcha is dancing, and a tiny child, but already so much like me in appearence, is dancing with her. My first daughter, the same as the day she died. I struggle to keep my voice steady. "Who is the child dancing with you? I know the others, but what of her?"

Sorcha blinks, and tilts her head. "I'm not sure. She just seems to fit there, like a forgotten memory waiting to be re-discovered. Are you alright, Mother? You look unwell."

I manage to regain my composture. "Nothing, child. I am fine."

****

End Flashback

* * *

I could look at that Tapestry and sense my Sorcha in every embroidered stitch.

But this is the Reality of her dreams.

No life. No laughter. No sound.

No music to accompany my Sorcha dancing.

As a living statue I felt nothing, no joy, no pain, only a faint whisper of what was happening outside.

Now the fresh knowledge of my Sorcha's absence hits me like a glancing physical blow.

The girl, Polly, sees the effect this wretched place is having on me, and wants to leave me here.

Oh, no, you most certainly will not!

I still have to find Aslan. I wish to have several very long and very painful words with him and if I have to search every damned pool in these horrible woods then so be it.

I am still trying to decide whether to glare at the confrontation, or to follow Sorcha's example, and smile. She could convey an incredible range of things with just a twitch of her lips.

**_

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Flashback_**

We were walking in the Gardens after a hellish day in court. I asked how she managed to put up with all the court intrigues.

My Sorcha looked up at me, wearing a devious smirk as she replies, "Just keep smiling. A well planned smile can be more terrifying than a lethal glare. Even if it is the 'Princess-of-Charn-Do-Not-Mess-With-Me' look, wielded by you in a bad mood."

How she manages to say such things with a straight face is beyond me. It is one of the many things that I love about her.

End Flashback

* * *

They try to leave without me. I grab hold of the girl's hair and am drawn into their world.

I am forced to meet the boy's uncle. He is an insufferable pain in the backside, but I will need his assistance if I am to survive in this strange place. It is obvious that the two children would be only too glad to be rid of me.

Indeed, they make their way back to the Wood between Worlds, probably trying to get me back to Charn.

Good Luck to them. Charn was destroyed mere hours after we left.

They chose a pool at random and pulled us into another world. It was not Charn, obviously.

This was an empty world. This was Nothing. Well, then, I will have to find out how to get in and out of the different worlds. I have places to go, people to find, Aslan to speak to.

I open my mouth to say something to that effect when I hear a voice that seems to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. The voice is singing, a melody filled with life and creation and hope.

It is a very nice melody, yet it is also dreadful. Dreadful because it brings with it the vision of a blonde young girl, eyes half closed as she lifts her face to the sky, the notes of a joyous tune spilling forth in a silvery cascade.

The sky in the East is starting to change colour, from black, to grey, to pink, to red, to gold.

The sun is rising on the first day for a new World.

The singer comes into view for the first time. It is a lion.

Most find such creatures terrifying, but it is they Lion's eyes that draw me in. I cannot tell how I know, but in than instant, I know that I have found Aslan.

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A/N - This was going to be one chapter but this is a good stopping point so I'll split it into two smaller chapters. 


	4. Chapter Four

Disclaimer: I do not own, please don't sue me, etc. etc.

Summery: see previous chapters

Thank you to DarkSpyroIke for pointing out the Chan/Charn mistake.

**

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Chapter Four **

_Most find such creatures terrifying, but it is the Lion's eyes that draw me in. I cannot tell how I know, but in that instant, I know that I have found Aslan._

* * *

I. Do. Not. Believe. This. 

Now I know that someone up there hates me.

What did I do in a previous life to deserve this?

I finally find that wretched being indirectly responsible for my Sorcha's death, and the circumstances make it impossible to kill him at this point in time. Oh, I know that the wretch directly responsible acted of his own accord, and Aslan probably had know knowledge, but the advisor is long out of reach, and my fury is great enough that I will take revenge where I can.

If I could, I would either destroy this lion with a spell of some sort or rip him apart with my bare hands. However, it is just my luck that the aforementioned lion is practically glowing with raw power. So, no killing just yet. My suicidal tendecies passed when my obsession with revenge took over. I am realistic enough to know that despite my own power, I cannot go up against the Lion and hope to win.

There is a time and a place for everything, but it is neither now or here. Frustration wells up deep within me. If my memory serves me correct, it should not be too long until the spell brings animals and green life into this emptiness and begins to carve the landscape.

Perhaps going apart for a while and blasting several large and fairly inoffensive objects into powder will help relieve some stress. Maybe some yelling too.

I utter a terrible scream of rage and run out of sight.

So much for dignity.

Oh, how my Sorcha would be laughing at this.

She always laughed when I resorted to anger and breaking things in order to let off steam.

**_

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Flashback -_**

A priceless vase shatters against the wall.

I look around for something else to throw, still turning the air blue with curses and swear words.  
My sister has just done something absolutely unforgivable and I will not tolerate it.

How dare she!

That presumptuous brat has decided that she now has adequate time to deal with raising a child and therefore I have no reason for Sorcha to remain in my care.

She says it as though she is doing me a favour by taking away an unwanted burden. What had she expected when she saddled me with that fool of a husband so many years ago? If Sorcha had been an unwanted burden, she would have had a 'fatal accident' long before now!  
I stop swearing and start plotting how to kill my sister without being too suspicious.

Sorcha is standing well away from the line of fire, reading the Queen's message and looking highly amused. She hears my ideas for inconspicuous assassination and bursts out laughing.  
I send a mild glare in her direction. I can never stay angry with my Sorcha.

"Would you care to tell me what you find so very amusing?" my tone is somewhat snappish.  
Sorcha makes an effort to control herself. It is several minutes before she can speak without giggling.  
"She has left it a bit late, has she not?" My Sorcha is wearing her most devious smirk. "Listen to this: 'It is therefore Our command that the Countess Sorcha be delivered back into Our custody by the last day of the Festival of the Moon, in order that We may take up our duties in regards to her well-being and future.' Yada, yada, yada. I believe that Her Imperial Majesty has forgotten that I come of age on the first day of the Festival. If I remember aright, my coming of age means that I am no longer under anyone's guardianship so the Queen will have no legal claim upon me."

She smiles up at me, hope and love shining in her green eyes. "If the Imperial Princess Jadis should choose to offer me housing until such a time as I am given the opportunity to find my own residence then, well, it is none of her business, is it?"

It is my turn to laugh. "Oh, my child, never change. I must admit, life around you is never boring."

She raises a delicate eyebrow. "The Queen is up to her tricks, I have suitors flocking around me like bees to a flower, Brand and I have started walking out together and the courting season starts in a few weeks. Boring has long since fled the city. Wherever did your mind go?"

I smile at her, choosing to ignore the comment about walking out withsomeone."Doubtless to the same place wheresoever 'Boring' chose to visit. Do you wish to tell the Queen, or will I?"  
**  
- End Flashback -

* * *

I return in time to see Aslan giving the Children directions to a garden in which there is a tree in which there is a fruit that will give protection to the land of Narnia.**

A priceless vase shatters against the wall.I look around for something else to throw, still turning the air blue with curses and swear words.My sister has just done something absolutely unforgivable and I will not tolerate it.How dare she!That presumptuous brat has decided that she now has adequate time to deal with raising a child and therefore I have no reason for Sorcha to remain in my care.She says it as though she is doing me a favour by taking away an unwanted burden.I stop swearing and start plotting how to kill my sister without being too suspicious. 

Narnia? Who came up with that ridiculous name? I have heard my fair share of foolish names, but this really takes the biscuit. And Protection? The last time I heard someone mention 'giving protection to our land', it was my sister discussing how to decrease the surplus population.

**_

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_**

**_Flashback -_**

_**We are holding Court and one of the dignitaries is starting his speech on the expanding population. Gods Above, how do they manage to go on for such a long time. If this continues I shall scream in the very near future. The only reason I am here is to give my official blessing and to announce Brand and Sorcha's betrothal.  
**  
_**_For once, Sorcha seems as bored as I am and is beginning to show it.  
"………Protection is necessary if we wish to prevent future complications."  
I can hear the soon-to-be couple whispering together. Outrageous sexual innudos seem to be the order of the day._**

**_"Protection is always necessary to prevent complications. I can't believe he only discovered that now!"  
"I wonder if anyone bothered to tell him about the Birds and the Bees. I mean, if he only found out now…"  
"He is the Queen's current favourite, perhaps we should ask her."_**

**_I nearly fall off my chair. What the……? Oh, honestly. I nearly choke on my laughter at the idea. _**

**_- End Flashback -_**

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_**Sorcha never failed to make a person laugh but, again, this is not the time. I am not going to laugh, I am not going to laugh… Oh what the hell, everyone is too busy cheering to hear me if I keep the volume down. 

I follow the children and their flying horse. Years of caring for an energetic girl and making sure she is never alone for any significant length of time once she has matured have a tendency to build up one's strength, endurance, speed and ability to remain un-noticed. They must stop for the night. My magics can sustain me much longer than a single day, and I have my own ways for speed.

I reach the Garden before they do. The Golden Gates refuse to let me in so I resort to climbing the wall.  
There is a poem on the gates advising otherwise but if the gate refuses to let me pass then I don't have a whole lot of choice, do I. The poetry itself is pathetic, too. Listen to this.

_Come in by the golden gates or not at all.  
Take of my fruit for others or forbear.  
For those who steal or those who climb my wall,  
Will find their heart's desire and find despair.  
_  
Like I said, the gates are being stubborn. What others, all whom I care for are long dead! Why are the fruits there if not to be eaten? What do you mean 'steal'? I don't see any other signs of life around here. As for the last part, my heart's desire is to see Aslan suffer as I did. Despair? I fell into despair when my Sorcha was killed and I very much doubt that it could get any worse.

I eat one of the fruits, finishing just before that dreadful boy comes in and takes another of the fruits for Aslan.

I try to talk him out of it. It never hurts to take precautions, after all. I do not fully know what that blasted lion is capable of, but if he never gets that supposed 'protection' in the first place, it just makes my goals that much easier.

The boy refuses. I suppose mentioning his dying mother may not have been the smartest thing to do.

I follow them back to where Aslan is waiting. He tells the boy to throw the apple neat the river. The new magic still alive in Narnia causes it to grow into a tree in a matter of minutes.

Aslan tells the assembled creatures that I "will not dare to come within one hundred leagues of that tree."

I am within hearing range. Somehow I believe that that qualifies as within a hundred-league radius.

Never mind. Let fools make fools of themselves then sit back and enjoy the show.

I will let them enjoy their delusions until I deem the time correct.

It will not do for Aslan to find me here, now, and think of some other way to keep me out. I will depart a way and work out some likely ideas to orchestrate Aslan's downfall.

Farewell, Narnia and Aslan. You should have happy lives.

Until next we meet.

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A/N – Another Chapter up. Dances around happily  
Thank you to everyone that reviewed._


	5. Chapter Five

_Disclaimer: I don't own it, everything belongs to C. S. Lewis, don't sue me._

_Summary: No one is born evil, so what made the witch that way? My take on what happened._

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_Chapter Five_

Finally.

The wretched lion is gone.

The line of human Kings and Queens has died, and with them, the few who actually remember the tales of the worlds beginning start to lose faith in the Tree and it's ability to keep me out.

Good. That makes everything much easier.

Until now, it was not the Tree from the garden beyond the Golden Gates that kept me out, but the Narnian's belief that it did so. Willpower, and the _belief_ that you can do something, are driving forces in any endevor, magic especially. The tree by itself could not stop me, but fuelled by the collective Faith of all Narnia, it would have cost me too much strength and power to take down the Tree. So much that I would have had to wait nearly as long as I already have to regain enough strength to conquor this land.  
Better to let the protections weaken on their own, a twisted version of 'Good Things Come to Those Who Wait'.

Now that belief is dying, and so that protection is weakening.

I have spent several years gradually winning some of the Narnians over to my side and taking care of the ones that are most likely to cause trouble in the future. I was born to a line famed for 'Taking Care Of' people that they find inconvienient, and it would certainly not be the first time.

I know what will happen when I return, what I will do to the land of that accursed being. If I become ruler, why should the land not reflect my own persona? A land bound to eternal winter, barren and empty, and without the joy of the winter festival.

A land to match the icy desolation in my soul, with the stark nothingness that was left when Aslan killed my Sorcha, my dearest heart-child, and extinguishing all of the light in my life as he did.

Fitting, is it not?

It is a magic tied to one's emotions.

My Sorcha discovered it my accident.

**_

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Flashback_**

_I am in the gardens, reading something that Sorcha and her little group of friends, Calanthe, Atlanta, Kennanwen, Elanisa and Mya, have thought up._

_I would swear that those six are intent on making me lose my composure and collapsing in public due to hysterical laughter._

_It is Midwinter and snow covers the ground._

_Suddenly a bird trills into song. I do not look up; birds sometimes return early, or it could simply be one of the breeds that is too stubborn to fly south this year. There are always one or two who are too stubborn or too foolish or too attached to leave the palace and city._

_Sorcha bounces into the clearing, lit up like a Christmas tree. Calanthe is explaining something to the others several paces behind._

_Now I do look up. It is currently the middle of winter; Swallows should not be in this hemisphere and I know that none of them have ever stayed. Roses belong to the Summer, they should not be blooming almost half a year early. Furthermore, would someone explain to me precisely why violets are springing up from wherever my Sorcha treads?_

_She is squealing with happiness and trying to tell me something that is completely incomprehensible through the wild giggling that has just erupted from the rest of the group as a distinctly familiar young man enters the garden._

_It takes a fair while, but I manage to glean the news that the boy that my Sorcha talked my sister out of killing has just asked for her heart and her hand in marriage and they wish for my blessing._

_He is a nice enough person and seems worthy of her, if he makes her happy then I will give my permission.  
If he is not worthy, and makes her cry... Well, I am the daughter of my ancestors. He will regret the hour he first saw daylight if he hurts her, for I can and have killed for less._

_I give my consent for a union between Brand, son of Ranben, and Sorcha, daughter of Jadis._

_End Flashback

* * *

_

However, one does need to be careful to keep a strict control over one's emotions.

An extreme emotion, if left unchecked for too long, can cause floods or droughts through excessive weather change.

Or, alternatively, drive someone insane because of constant moping or being entirely too happy about everything and having the environment reflect that.

Useful for intimidation, though.

**_

* * *

Flashback_**

_Oh no._

_For the love of heaven how stupid can you get?_

_Some idiot courtier has just made a remark about a lady of high quality marrying beneath her. The imbecile actually hinted at the idea of only marrying in order to save face about something. Of being in a 'family way'.  
Ha! If that were the case, Sorcha and I would be in retreat at one of the Summer palaces, and the unfortunate perpetrator would be long dead._

_My Sorcha has a deadly look on her face._

_The more intelligent members of society are starting to back away from the immediate area. Anyone standing in between the aforementioned courtier and my highly displeased daughter are bolting like rabbits to somewhere safer._

_Sorcha is moving slowly toward the idiot, bearing a worrying resemblance to a sabre-toothed tiger. She has been taking my lessons to heart. I sit back in my chair, watching. I will have to give her a well-rounded critique when this is over._

_Her voice is soft, deadly, as she asks him to repeat what he just said. It is an obvious challenge. He would do better to keep his mouth shut._

_He doesn't._

_He says something that I do not care to repeat. This document may fall into the hands of children, after all._

_My Sorcha's green eyes narrow, taking on a diamond hard glint. Everyone else retreats as far away as possible. The air grows chilly as the Sun ducks behind a low-lying cloud and refuses to come out. All noises from outside stop as silence falls with an audible thud. Sorcha's friends look on with anticipation. The Queen looks impressed, I certainly am._

_It is over fairly quickly. Let us just say that people were careful to keep their comments to themselves after that little demonstration._

_End flashback

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_

I pass the Tree and travel through Narnia, trying to get a general idea for the landscape and it's boundaries.

You should always have a picture in your mind's eye of what you are casting the spell on when you are using a form of magic, regardless of what area you are practicing. Detail is everything. Sometimes literaly

I take a deep breath and raise my arms, calling upon my magic as I begin the spell.

I focus on the rage and hatred I feel for this land and it's creator. I pull up the memories of sorrow and pain.

There is no despair like that of a grieving mother. I recall the claws of frigid cold that fastened themselves around my heart when Sorcha died.

Power flows from me like an enormous, unstoppable wave, bursting out and away, changing everything it touches from the bright joy and sound of summer to the stark whiteness of winter. The water freezes, still showing the waves as it turns to ice.

I call upon those who now serve me; creatures of darkness, those who are greedy for power, those who are consumed by hatred or despair.

Now let all of Narnia tremble as a New Era begins. The Age of Winter.

Ruled by me. I am Jadis, Queen of Narnia and Empress of the Lone Islands, etc.

I am the White Witch.

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**To be Continued.**

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A/N – What does everyone think? Good, Bad, Medium? Tell me in a review._


	6. Chapter Six

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lion, The Witch or the Wardrobe. The Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and I am making no money off this. Please don't sue, you wouldn't get much anyway.

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Chapter Six**

It has now been One Hundred years since I first began my reign of winter over the land of Narnia.

I once thought that the satisfaction of taking Aslan's country from him would bring me peace and that by eating the fruit and becoming immortal I would be able to take revenge on the lion. I once thought that power could bring me happiness.

Now I begin to realize that existence can be very lonely without someone to share it with, no matter how long you will live. Now I know that while power may bring happiness's sister, cousin and uncle twice removed, happiness herself is proving to be very skilled at evading me.

My courtyard is lined with statues; people who have tried to stop me and whom I have turned into stone. They are nice to look at, but cold stone will never replace warm flesh and blood.

I remember that it was my Sorcha who first pointed that out to me. My sister had commissioned a statue as a wedding gift for her

_**

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Flashback -** _

There is a cheer as Sorcha and Brand share their first kiss as husband and wife.

They both smile as they turn to look at the crowd, practically glowing with happiness and laughter.

The sun is high as it shines down from a clear blue sky. Both are clad in wedding finery, Sorcha wearing a white gown embroidered with silver and a rosy blush, white ribbons and flowers entwined in her blonde hair, Brand in a silvery-white robe over a tunic of palest blue.

I move up to the two of them, smiling. Yes, I will admit that mothers are always overly emotional on such occasions.

"Good Morning, children, or is it Afternoon?"

Brand grins back at me, he is a fine match for my Sorcha.

"Nay, not yet, Princess Jadis. Not while my beloved shines so bright in my eyes! Surely it is always morning where she is?"

Sorcha beams like the sun coming out. Nearby, Elanisa rolls her eyes, "New-wedded idiots. Gods give me patience."

She is calmly ignored. It takes much more than a single, impaitent comment to ruin a wedding.

There is dancing and music and laughter and fine food.

Sorcha and Brand are both greatly loved. Half of Charn was invited to the wedding, and most of the rest showed up anyway.

Finally, it begins to grow dark, and it is time to give the wedding gifts before the drinking starts and the bride and groom can sneak away without anyone noticing. I sometimes think that sneaking away is as much tradition as the ceremony and the vows exchanged.

The presents are received with smiles and thanks, but when my sister unveils a statue of the two of them, something flashes in my Sorcha's eyes, quickly veiled as she gives the Queen her thanks.

I quietly move to my daughter's side. "You seem to dislike the statue. It is beautifully made."

My Sorcha nods her agreement. "Beautiful, yes. But also cold and lifeless. It will stand for a long time, but never be more than a shadow of what will last for eternity."

I do not have a chance to answer as Brand chooses that moment to reappear and the two of them slip away and are not seen for the rest of the night. They were not seen for most of the next morning either, but everyone was too busy nursing monumental headaches to notice.

****

End Flashback -

* * *

I am riding in a carriage, out on a tour of Narnia, when I come across something that I have not seen for a long while: a human boy.

How very interesting.

It takes a while, but I finally get the idiot to confirm his species. I was correct; he is indeed a son of Adam. I offered him food and drink, obviously no one has taught him not to accept food from strangers. We adjourn into a pavilion that I create and talk further. He tells me that he has a sister who has been here before and met a faun by the name of Tumnus.

Tumnus is one of my spies, why was this sighting not reported? I will deal with him later, after I have had the time to think of a suitable punishment for him. It will be a nasty one, that much is certain. Fear and the loyalty it inspires will take on a whole new meaning once I am done.

The brat is talking again, correcting his earlier statement. It seems he has a brother and two sisters. I am still slightly preoccupied with that wretched faun's betrayal so it takes a moment for the news to sink in.

"Two, three, four…Four!"

The prophecy! Two sons of Adam and Two daughters of Eve! The four thrones of Cair Paravel! Oh, could this day get worse?

There was a prophecy made long ago, by the last queen of Narnia, incidentally. She seemed to think that telling me would somehow save her from death. I gave it little thought at the time, but it seems insistant on coming back to haunt me.

When Adam's flesh and Adam's bone sits at Cair Paravel in throne, the Witch's time will be over and done.

Oh, joy.

I swear, the only thing that could make this worse would be news of Aslan returning.

My brain is working quickly, how to remove this threat altogether? I could get rid of this one, but that would leave his three siblings to deal with. Brute force would obviously not work as well as I would hope, so perhaps manipulation would serve better.

I think temptation will be best to start out with and so I invite the boy back to my house. Not Cair Paravel; that place was once the dwelling of Human Kings and Queens. No, my house lies nearer to the Mountains than the Sea. I want to be as far away from that blasted lion as possible. 'Son of the Emperor-over-the-sea'. Humph. The pretentious, stuck up git.

The boy, Edmund, seems eager at the prospect. I know all too well the trials of being a younger sibling, the desire to be first in _something_! He knows nothing of my reputation, so it will be easy to turn him. Time to raise the stakes.

"It is a lovely place, my house. Except for one thing: I have no children of my own" Not since my Sorcha, and my little Vanerina before her, and none will ever replace them, boy or girl. "I would so much like a young boy whom I could bring up as a Prince. He would be King of Narnia when I am gone. He would wear a gold crown and eat Turkish Delight all day long." No he bloody well would not! There are responsibilities that go with such positions, and one does not learn them by sitting in a room and stuffing one's face! Furthermore, I am immortal and have no plans for dying in the near future!

I tell him that he may journey to my house the next time he visits Narnia, as long as he brings his brother and sisters with him

He does not seem particularly happy at the idea (perhaps he thinks he will be shunted aside in favor of them?) but he agrees.

I give him directions and order him not to return without them. I give the order to my coachman and we drive away, leaving him behind. Thank the heavens, I was not sure how much more of the wretch I would have been able to take and to kill him then would have messed my plans up dreadfully.

We drive back to my house between the two hills and I order one of the servants to bring a cold compress to me in a darkened room. Queen of Narnia or not, the boy Edmund has succeeded in giving me a splitting headache.

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A/N – Yay, another chapter up and we get into The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe. 


	7. Chapter Seven

_Disclaimer: I do not own Chronicles of Narnia. Deal with it.  
Summary: See previous chapters._

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Chapter Seven

Time passes differently in different worlds.

In Narnia, it has been close to a month since I last saw that annoying child, Edmund, and I fear that I must put up with him for a while longer.

At the moment, I am in my study, dealing with the paperwork that is the bane of any person in a position of authority.

I have dealt with that traitorous faun, Tummnus. He is now a work of art decorating my halls. If I ever decide to release those that I have statue-ized, I shall be sure to impress upon them the knowledge that regicide is hazardous to One's continued good health.

Especially if the ruler in question is me.

Besides, wielding the magic necessary to turn people to stone can be tiring, even if I am powerful enough. If only I had the power to make this paperwork take care of itself! Unfortunately, I do not think there is such a power in all the worlds that have ever been.

It is a welcome break when my chief of police, Maugrim, enters to tell me that the boy, Edmund, has finally come to see me.

I wait in my throne room, wearing my usual white-and-silver, along with my crown and my most majestically intimidating expression.

The boy enters the room, looking out of place amongst the elegant architecture.

Oh, for the love of Heaven! Honestly, can males be trusted to do nothing right? Edmund has come alone, even after I had repeatedly stressed that he was to have his brother and sisters with him. I am Not Happy and do not hesitate to express my displeasure.

The boy splutters an excuse, claiming that he had done the best he could, bringing them as close as the beaver's house on top of the dam.

I barely resist the urge to roll my eyes and snarl. Did I mention that I hate people making excuses? Unless it is a valid and very good reason, for example: "I was knocked over by a train and broke both legs so I cannot now compete in the foot race". Otherwise, it is simply a coward's way to attempt to evade taking responsibility. My bad mood is consolidated when the brat tells me that Aslan has also come to Narnia.

My reaction may have been slightly extreme, and certainly not in keeping with the image of a 'Motherly and caring, yet powerful Queen' that I had been trying to project.

Motherly and Caring. Those two words have not been used in conjunction with me for aeons. It is certainly not the aura I give off now, as the boy seems terrified, stammering that he was only repeating what he had heard.

I reassert control over myself with a great deal of effort, calling for Maugrim and ordering my dwarf to prepare the sleigh, using the harness without bells. I do not wish to inform all of Narnia that I am coming up behind them.

What takes my chief of police so long? I tell Maugrim to take the swiftest of his wolves and go at once to the house of the beavers and to kill everyone he finds there. There is a chance that the Beavers will have noticed the boy's absence and fled. If this is so, Maugrim and his second must go to the Stone Table and wait for me there. I will have to travel many miles to the west before I can safely cross the river.

I am glad to have Maugrim; he always obeys without question. It seems an age before the sled is ready, an age in which I am forced to endure the presence of a boy who seems convinced that he is the centre of the Universe.

At least he is quiet as we ride, probably because he sleeps through the night, regardless of the movements of the sleigh.

With nothing to occupy my mind, my thoughts inevitably turn to happier times, and the ones who made them so.

My Sorcha had always loved sleigh rides, whether over snow or sand or through evergreen forests. She would sing as we rode. Often she was deliberately loud and very out of tune, but the lyrics were always amusing. Her favourite was at the Summer Solstice, dancing at the beach. I remember it clearly; people laughing at the antics of Sorcha and her friends, and the answering grin as my daughter sang.

* * *

_Flashback_

_Calanthe lunged toward Sorcha, trying to shut her up before she began singing again. My daughter danced out of reach, laughing as she sang painfully off-key._

_"Dashing through the sand,_

_In out Cozzies and our thongs,_

_Over sand hills we go,_

_Laughing all the way!_

_Bells on surfboards ring,_

_Making spirits gay!_

_What fun it is to laugh and sing,_

_On a sunny solstice day! Mrmph! Gerrof!"_

_Brand had tackled her, knocking her to the sand and into a very compromising position. Sorcha twists free and runs off, laughing._

_End flashback_

* * *

A different world, a different life, both long past. I am called out of my thoughts by the sound of a Christmas party.

Hmm. The boy was right, as was whoever told him. As much as I hate to admit it, Aslan is the only one with enough power to counter my spells to this extent.

I stop the sleigh and demand to know what is going on. I know exactly what is happening, I am not that stupid, but I would still like confirmation that it truly is Aslan, not a few drunken idiots getting together and deciding to pretend that they saw him.

The fox's obvious fear and grovelling almost make me relent. Almost. I had planned to be merciful and leave them alive after confirming Aslan's presence. Then that wretched baby squirrel starts banging its spoon on the table and squeaking, "He has, he has, he has!"

I had planned to be lenient. Oh, well. I ignore Edmund's plea to spare them and turn the table, along with its settings and occupants, to stone. We ride on.

* * *

Oh joy.

Now the sled has bogged down.

Fine, I will admit it. My dwarf is right; this is no ordinary thaw, this is Spring.

My dwarf may be correct in this matter, but if he continues to state the obvious, I shall do something that will be both drastic and permanent. I am perfectly well aware that my Winter is being destroyed and yes, I realize that it is that blasted lion's doing.

This is putting me in a bad mood, and I inform him that the first person to mention that name again, will be instantly killed. I still need them both, so it is unlikely that I will carry through with my threat, but they do not know that, and my tone of voice should convince them.

We cannot continue in the sleigh, so I order my dwarf to cut the harness from the horses, they can find their own way home. We begin walking.

An hour or so later, Maugrim's second in command arrives to report that my Chief of Police has been killed by Edmund's older brother, who Aslan has decided will be High King when I am gone.

I wonder if the Son of Adam knows what he will have to do to get said title. Besides, from what my spies tell me, the girl, Lucy, would make a far better choice. She is an innocent, but she is strong and stands for what she believes in. Lucy came to Narnia first and appears to be good at winning people over to her side. She reminds me of another young woman, far away and long ago. Were circumstances different, this Lucy would make a fine queen.

Aslan is getting ahead of himself. He needs me gone first, and I will not go down without putting up a very good fight.

The prophecy requires that two Sons of Adam and two Daughter of Eve fill the four thrones.

How if only three were filled? Then the prophecy could not come to pass. I can kill the fourth Son of Adam, and thus leave the fourth throne empty.

My dwarf councils against it, saying that we might keep him for bargaining with. I roll my eyes mentally. Why am I always surrounded by incompetent idiots? My voice is sarcastic as I reply. "Yes. And have him rescued!"

I would rather this be done at the Stone Table, where such things have always been done. But it may be long before that sacred place is again put to its proper use. I have my dwarf tie Edmund to a tree and begin to sharpen a knife, ignoring the feel that something is about to happen.

It does. Even as I raise the knife, several flying beasts, no doubt sent by Aslan, swoop down to rescue the Son of Adam.

This battle is one that I cannot win, so I believe a swift retreat is in order. I quickly cast a spell, giving the impression that my dwarf and I are instead a boulder and a tree stump.

When they have gone, I change us back into our true forms. By Deep Magic, all traitors belong to me. I begin to laugh, the sound echoing into the night.

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_A/N: So, we have another chapter up. Constructive critisism is welcomed, and I'm thinking of doing a spin-off sequal, set during Prince Caspian. What do people think?_

_Thanks,  
Nat_


	8. Chapter Eight

Disclaimer: As usual, I don't own it.  
Summary: See previous Chapters.

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Chapter Eight **

A new day has dawned, and I have sent my dwarf ahead to Aslan's camp, bearing a message. I wish to speak with the Lion, but I am not so foolish as to go without promise of safe-conduct.

Knowing what I do of him, I expect him to agree, but to lay restrictions, probably the insistence that I leave my wand where it can do no damage.

My dwarf returns, along with one of Aslan's heralds. Aslan has agreed, on the condition that I leave my wand behind at the white rock at the edge of his camp.

Good.

We arrive at the camp and I behold the scene before me. Dryads, beasts, fauns and others gather here under bright banners. But my attention is captured by the scene before me. Aslan. The lion fills my entire vision as I raise my wand, wanting nothing more than to strike him down.

Then my vision widens, and I only just manage to place my wand on the rock before I drop it.

I look upon the four children.  
Peter, who killed Maugrim. A boy who is forced to become a man, woefully un-prepared for his duty.  
A girl that I assume to be Susan. By all appearances, she is a brainless beauty, the required 'Daughter of Eve. Whether she lives or not, she will never be of true importance.  
The traitor, Edmund. He is repentant of his sins, but knows that they will never be erased. His family has forgiven him, but he has yet to forgive himself.  
Last of all, Lucy, the youngest, who found Narnia first. It is clear, also, that she loves Aslan, young enough to have unshakable faith, even is she doesn't fully understand.  
I look upon Lucy, judging her worth, and my heart stops, an icy dagger plunging deep into my soul.

Make her a few inches taller, her dark blonde hair a few shades lighter, and falling to her waist. Take away the last remains of baby fat, the peculiar clothing. Dress her in the flowing gown and mantle of Charn nobility and twine flowers and leaves in her hair. I make these changes in my mind's eye, and the knife digs deeper.

Lucy could have been my Sorcha when she was that age.

* * *

I pull myself together and begin to move forward, halting as I hear the winged beasts snarling, screeching and flapping their wings. 

I force myself onward. I have safe conduct and no reason or need to fear them.

I walk up to Aslan with a purposeful, business-like stride. I pause before him a moment, pouring all of my hatred and grief into a single glare at the Lion. "Aslan, you have a traitor there."

I see that the children and those surrounding them all flinch back in fear. They know it is true, but do not wish to lose the boy. Sorcha would frown in disapproval, but I feel a momentary flash of satisfaction at their reaction to my words.

Aslan, however, remains calm. "His offense was not against you."

My Sorcha committed no offense whatsoever, save that she was too loved, and a threat to my sister's power! You did not even enter the equation, and are relatively blameless, yet it was in _Your_ name that my Sorcha was killed!

I regain control of myself with an effort. "Have you forgotten the Deep Magic?"

Please say yes, that I may say that I can kill one who harbors the traitor, rather than the traitor himself. The rest of Narnia can go to Hell or soar to Heaven, for all that I am concerned.

"Deep Magic from the Dawn of Time?" Aslan's eyes, fathomless and hypnotic, never leave mine.

Damn! He has not forgotten. I see the mockery in his eyes as I continue. "You know what is written there!" I point to the Stone Table. "On that very table of stone. You know that every traitor belongs to me, as my lawful prey, and that for every treachery, I have the right to kill!"

Again, my Sorcha would have frowned, but I find myself enjoying the looks of dawning horror on the faces around me. "You know, Aslan, that that human creature is mine! His life is my property! His blood is forfeit to me."

One of the nearby fauns bursts out, "Come and take it then!"

Ah, the folly of youth. I laugh at him. "Fool! Do you think your master can rob me of my rights, by mere force? He knows the Deep Magic better than that! He knows that unless I have blood, as the law states, the whole of Narnia will be overturned and will perish in fire and water!"

Alright, I may have been a bit dramatic in the execution of this little speech, but it is true.

Throughout this, Aslan has remained as emotionless as a rock, something that is starting to annoy me more and more by the minute. Now he speaks. "It is true. I will not deny it."

Lucy speaks, and the knife twists. "Oh, Aslan, can't you do something?"

I cannot fault her loyalty to her brother, however misplaced, but I wonder at the girl's intellect. No, Aslan could not do anything against the Deep Magic, and even if he were able, I doubt that he would. Lucy is fortunate, still so innocent in the ways of the world. She does not realize that she, along with her siblings and the rest of Narnia, are but pawns to him.

Aslan only looks at her. "Work against the Deep Magic? Wait here, all of you. I will talk to the witch alone.

* * *

We go apart. Behind us, I see Lucy crying for both Aslan and her brother. I see the fearful expressions on the faces of Aslan's people. 

Aslan speaks first. "You have never held to that part of the Deep Magic, Queen of Charn. Why will you do so now?"

I have never held to it before because of the sole reason that my Sorcha had met her husband by someone showing mercy in a situation when they had the right to kill. I stare into the distance, knowing that Aslan can exploit any weakness that I show. "Indirectly, it will harm you. Also, while I believe otherwise, people say that you mourn all those who die, whether loyal to you or no."

The lion seems to sigh. "Is your hatred of me so great, Jadis? You would see the suffering of innocents, make use of the Deplorable Word?"

I counter his question with one of my own. "Do you remember a young woman of my world, Aslan? Kind and gentle, but executed in your name. That is why I hate thee, Aslan! Charn was already dead! Its people were dead, and its sun ready to die. I hastened the inevitable by a matter of weeks, and that is all. However, that has nothing to do with our topic of discussion."

Aslan sighs again. "I remember the girl. Had she lived, the history of Narnia would have been forever changed, a risk that I could not take. She burned brighter than the stars, and I would never have wished her death. But it was necessary, as much as I regret the loss of her life."

_Necessary!_ I have no room to talk without being a hypocrite, but that does not stem my fury.  
Rage, pure and undiluted, sears through me. Charn was destroyed before Narnia ever came into being! Aslan intruded upon my world, orchestrated the death of my child, all because he was worried about the fate of his world being changed? If trouble comes, one should deal with it, not go and kill an innocent woman to be killed on a maybe! All right, I have done so enough times to see the advantages, but there are more peaceful ways that would have been in better keeping with Aslan's character!  
I cannot believe this. How does he know that the change would be anything worse than an ice age for a year or two? Aslan and his father are supposed to be infallible. How could they have missed what the advisor would do? How could they have allowed such a horrible mistake to be committed?

My irrational rage flares again, and I barely restrain myself from killing him with my bare hands. I open my mouth to deliver a scathing retort when Aslan speaks again. Had I been paying more attention, I would have realized that there was a plan behind his words. "I offer an exchange: My life for the Son of Adam's. And I offer my sympathy if the girl was close to you."

My eyes blaze as I turn on him, my teeth bared in a snarl. "I spurn thy condensing sympathy! How couldst thou comprehend the will to follow her that plagued Charn? Yet I will accept the exchange that thou dost propose. Tonight, at the Stone Table, where such things have always been done."

Ach. I am slipping into the high tongue. That is never good. Oh, well, it matters not.At last, Aslan's blood will stain the ground of Narnia, even as the advisor's blood, even as my Sorcha's blood, stained that of Charn.

* * *

We return. I notice that Aslan offers no specific detail on what we had agreed, saying only that I had renounced my claim on Edmund's blood. 

It is at times like this that I regret that so much of history is written by men, or by the victors. They record only details that reflect well upon themselves. My own ancestoress, Lilith, was banished from Eden for refusing to submit to her husband, but it is recorded that she was cast away for disobedience. Aslan gives the impression that he has talked me out of the desire for blood. But how do I know that he will hold up his end of the bargain? I ask him. "But how do I know that this promise will be kept?"

He roars, and I hear the words beneath the thunderous sound._ 'You wish the girl avenged. My life for the boy's. I will keep my word'_

A series of images flash through my mind, images that I have tried for so long to bury.

The calm acceptance on my Sorcha's face as she looks at the executioner.

The look of regret on the executioner's face as he meets her eyes, the shame in his own, accompanied by the desire that it was someone, anyone, else who must perform the deed.

The sheer, unconditional love and wish to be remembered by the joyous times shared as she looks at Brand and I.

Sorcha's clear, untaught voice raised in song for the last time as she sings her death-chant, about the love she bore for all of Charn, both the people and the land itself, and the desire that they find the joy in life that she had always reveled in.

I stumble back in horror, then turn and flee.

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A/N – Only one more chapter to go, which should be up in the near future. 

Thanks everyone, and don't forget to review.

Nathalia.


	9. Chapter Nine

Disclaimer: As usual, anything you recognise, I don't own.

Summary: See previous chapters.

Dedicated to all the victims of the Boxing Day Tsunami disaster, and their families and friends. A friend of mine was in Sri Lanka visiting her family, so please add her to your prayers for a safe return.

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Chapter Nine

I have gathered all my forces and now await Aslan at the Stone Table. I am drunk with impending victory, and have tossed all of my cares and precautions to the wind. I should know better, but I am beyond caring.

Finally, I see him approach. For a moment, I think I catch a brief glimpse of the two Daughters of Eve, but I dismiss the matter from my mind.

Instead, I laugh, hearing my servants laugh behind me. I cry to all; both Aslan and my people. "The fool! The fool has come!"

Aslan only stands there, a look of sorrow in his large, dark eyes.

I call to a few of my hags. "Bind him fast."

They hesitate. Even in surrender and submission, Aslan has an imposing presence. Even so, I am getting annoyed at the delay. "Bind him, I say! Bind him."

They obey and drag the wretched lion forward. It is not enough. I want Aslan to be humiliated. I want his pride shattered into a thousand pieces. "Now, let him first… Be shaved!"

This time it is my Minyatur who comes forward to obey my command. I relish in the jeers and taunts that come from my army as the Minyatur steps back from his task.

"Why, it's only a great cat!"

"Is that what we were afraid of?"

They taunt to hide their fear, I know, but still I revel in the laughter. Despite his calm outward appearance, I can see into Aslan's eyes. I look deep, and I see shame, humiliation.

But it is not enough. "Muzzle him!"

I watch with glee as my people obey.

Whilst it is unattractive to gloat, no one here will complain about it, for even the dullest of my minions are not that stupid, so I plan to indulge myself. Besides, great speeches are always expected on fields of victory, and I do not wish to disappoint. I plan to enjoy this. "And now, who has won? Fool! Did you think that by all this you could save the human traitor? As agreed in our pact, I will kill you instead of him, so that the Deep Magic from the dawn of time will be appeased. But, when you are dead, what is to stop me from killing him too? You have given me Narnia, forever!"

There is laughter from my people, but in this moment I am aware of the existence of only two beings: Aslan and myself. I raise the knife. "You have lost your own life, and you have not saved his. In that knowledge, Aslan, despair and DIE!"

I drive the knife down, closing those fathomless eyes forever. I feel the blood spill as the blade enters Aslan's heart; blood that stains the Stone Table. Drums, which had been beating throughout the night, are silent.

I am drunk with victory as I cry to my followers. "Now, follow me all! Let us settle this war, and crush the human vermin and the traitors! Now that the great fool, the cat, lies dead, the whole of Narnia is mine!"

The children of Charn have always loved sports and games. I am the last, with none to compete against, but that does not mean I have allowed my skills to wane. I begin to run, allowing myself to imagine that I race against my Sorcha. I run to where I know the rest of Aslan's people are. They will die, and my victory will be complete!

Now, to War!

* * *

Blast and Damnation! Aslan must have warned the Son of Adam about what I might do beforehand. I curse myself for not thinking of this. 

Peter has set up scouts, and has armed his people for battle.

I swear under my breath and glare at my dwarf. "We should have gotten here sooner, and attacked by night."

My dwarf is looking at the scene below. "They expect to be attacked in broad daylight. We'll catch them unprepared."

This may be true; it is scarce past dawn. Still, I do not wish to give them the time. I smile. "Form the battle lines. And keep all silent."

My dwarf turns to me. "There may not be many as could keep silent."

If anyone ruins my plans now… I give him my most frigid glare. "They will stay silent or…"

I aim my wand at a random member of my army. Like so many before him, he becomes a stone statue. I trust I have proven my point?

I have, and there is not a sound from my army as they move into position. Despite this, some of the scouts that the Son of Adam posted see us, and set up a warning.

Well, that certainly defeats the purpose of silence. I let out a furious battle-scream in the long forgotten tongue of Charn. We charge.

Hmmm. The Sons of Adam are not all that bad with their weapons. They could certainly do with better instruction, but their ability is fairly good, fueled by necessity and desperation. If developed, they could be dangerous.

If One has an advantage, One should use it as early and as often as possible. I begin turning people to stone, the power coursing through my veins.

Just as I raise my wand for the Nth time, there is a fountain of sparks, and my wand is shorn into two pieces.

In a fury, I turn to see that wretched brat, Edmund, holding a sword and looking pleased with himself.

He may have destroyed my wand's power, but I am still holding the sharp lower half. It no longer channels my magical power, but it will find no resistance in soft, human flesh. He must have realised this from my face, because he pales a second before I drive the remnants of the wand into his abdomen, watching as he falls to the ground, blood staining his clothing.

Nearby, his brother sees, and begins to run towards me. He is likely to loose his head and do something stupid, but even so, I do not wish to be in the same immediate area as him. People are always at their most dangerous when they are mad with grief. Take me for example: I destroyed an entire world!

The boy kneels beside his fallen sibling, then stands up to follow me, a look of vengeance upon his face.

I am at the top of the ridge when I hear someone call for the boy, Peter, to stand back. I know that voice! I freeze where I am standing.

I know that voice, but it is impossible! Aslan is dead! I held the knife that pierced his heart.

Even if it had not, the blood loss would have killed him or at the very least, made him too weak to stand.

Now I remember the strange note in Aslan's voice as we discussed our bargain. I need to pay more attention when my instincts tell me that I am on the verge of being tricked.

Aslan is roaring, and the ridge trembles beneath my feet. I wobble slightly, trying to keep my balance. The cliff shakes harder, and I fall.

* * *

Pain flares briefly as my body is dashed upon the rocks, driving my life out. But as my spirit rises from my body, I behold an amazing, and very welcome, sight. 

My son-in-law, Brand, stands with his arms around my beloved Sorcha, who holds a small child in her arms.

Sorcha's child, my granddaughter, is passed to her father as Sorcha holds out her arms, welcoming me.

Wonder of wonders! Another young girl stands beside them. She looks so much like me, though not more than ten years old, and with her fathers midnight blue eyes. Do the dead somehow age? Or do they appear as they wish? I cannot imagine a ninety year old woman wishing to stay old and wrinkled forever.

But that is beside the point. I see the afterlife, and it no longer frightens me, for I will be with those I loved. I fly into the embrace, holding both of my treasured daughter tight.

When Sorcha died, I could not cry. When I triumphed over my sister, I would not allow myself to mourn the loss of my only remaining family. Now, finally, I find myself able to grieve for all that was lost. I weep, pouring out all the pain and loneliness that I had both inflicted and suffered safe within the sanctuary of my beloved daughter's arms.

A light begins to shine in the distance. My daughters take my hand and lead me forward with a reassuring smile.

I follow them. Into Death.

Into Peace.

**__**

THE END

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A/N - Finally, 'A Reason For Everything' is finished! 

Now, to thank my reviewers.

Erin – Thank you so much for your continuous support!

Skylight Oracle – That has got to be one of my most enthusiastic reviews ever. Thanks.

DarkSpyroIke – Thanks for all your positive reviews, and not just in 'A Reason For Everything'. Also, thanks for inspiring me to do the Winter Spell chapter.

Starlit Jewel – Yes, that was basically what gave me the idea and why I wrote the story in the first place. Glad to see that someone else agrees with me.

Misha – Thanks to you as well.

Hikaru – Very weird. But hey, we write fanfiction. That makes us all weird. (My sister's words) Mind dropping a review about what you think about the others

Sira Morgan – Thanks. Doing my best.

Catherine – Define good? No mischief makes life boring. Will do.

Grimm Sister – Thanks for your review. Constructive criticism always helps.

Laer Lalaith – Really? Your favourite C. S. Lewis fic? I'm very flattered.

TrisakAminawn – For chapter Six review: No, she isn't. This chapter made that kind of obvious.  
For chapter Eight review: Thanks, personally I quite like Jadis's comments too. The weather is changeable; sunny, rainy, cloudy. Mostly it is sunny and hot; at least in this part of NSW.

For chapter Six review: No, she isn't. This chapter made that kind of obvious.For chapter Eight review: Thanks, personally I quite like Jadis's comments too. The weather is changeable; sunny, rainy, cloudy. Mostly it is sunny and hot; at least in this part of NSW.

Laer2572 – Thanks as always for your reviews. I'm basking in all the praise.

Thress7014 – I'm always glad to hear people's opinion, but please, leave God and the Bible out of this. No offence to anyone, Christian or otherwise, but I believe in the power of Choice, and that everyone is responsible for their own destiny.

Thanks, Nathalia.

– Thank you so much for your continuous support! – That has got to be one of my most enthusiastic reviews ever. Thanks.Thanks for all your positive reviews, and not just in 'A Reason For Everything'. Also, thanks for inspiring me to do the Winter Spell chapter.Yes, that was basically what gave me the idea and why I wrote the story in the first place. Glad to see that someone else agrees with me.Thanks to you as well.Very weird. But hey, we write fanfiction. That makes us all weird. (My sister's words) Mind dropping a review about what you think about the others Thanks. Doing my best.Define good? No mischief makes life boring. Will do.Thanks for your review. Constructive criticism always helps.Really? Your favourite C. S. Lewis fic? I'm very flattered.For chapter Six review: No, she isn't. This chapter made that kind of obvious.For chapter Eight review: Thanks, personally I quite like Jadis's comments too. The weather is changeable; sunny, rainy, cloudy. Mostly it is sunny and hot; at least in this part of NSW.Thanks as always for your reviews. I'm basking in all the praise.I'm always glad to hear people's opinion, but please, leave God and the Bible out of this. No offence to anyone, Christian or otherwise, but I believe in the power of Choice, and that everyone is responsible for their own destiny. 


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